


Between the Pirates and the Deep Blue Sea

by Queerapika



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Leopika Week 2016, M/M, implied violence and plundering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 15:17:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8213851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queerapika/pseuds/Queerapika
Summary: heavily inspired by Black Sails, written for leopikaweek day 3 - Blue/Possibilities
in which Leorio is captured by pirates, adopts a child and finds a treasure he once had in addition to a future he never imagined





	

**Author's Note:**

> is this summary awful, yes it is but it's 3 am, so bear with me my dudes. A most heartfelt thanks goes out to sketch/kurapilka for doing some 11th hour editing and the occasional shout of 'gayyyyyy'

In the months Leorio has spent at sea, both as a free man and as a prisoner, he has learned to fear the quiet.

The quiet when there is no wind.

The quiet when your ship is heavy with the additional weight of three dozen pirates who have their guns drawn. The tense, indecisive quiet before the fighting starts and the absolute quiet when it ends and only death remains and you are waiting, hidden under deck, for the heavy footfall of the winner to approach.

Quiet means change. Quiet means danger. It means facing something you were not prepared to face.

Leorio is waiting for the quiet to set in. He is not sure how much time has passed since the screaming started and he has no means of finding out: the shackles on his feet are tied closely to a metal ring in the wall of the supply chamber. (He shares this predicament with the ship's dairy goat.)

The truth is, Leorio cares little about what happens on deck. Not a single cannon has been fired before the fight began, so their attackers are not members of the navy. Another crew of pirates, then. Another band of criminals, another set of criminals that will either claim or kill him.

The door of the supply room flies open and a shadow in the shape of a boy scatters to Leorio's side.

“We need to hurry,” the boy says, his words emphasized by the clattering of metal keys. He tries them on the shackles. As his fingers slip and brush against Leorio's ankles, he notices they are slick with blood.

“What for? We're miles from any shore, aren't we? There's nowhere to run.”

“I'm not talking about running. I'm talking about taking care of Captain Morou, as long as he's distracted.”

Leorio finds his mouth dry and his voice cracking as he calls the boys name. Sixteen years old. A child still, and already driven to the point where murder seemed the only satisfactory solution to his problems. “Gon, no.”

“You promised,” Gon presses. He tries another key and the first of Leorio's shackles clangs open.

“You promised you would kill him.”

Leorio would like to remind Gon that it has been more of an angry threat, rather than a promise, to send the pirate to hell where he belonged, but he worries that if he does not stand by his word, he will lose Gon's trust. With every day that Hisoka Morou continued to live, prancing and leering, the day drew closer when he would no longer be content claiming Gon with only his eyes. Leorio would rather die than let this happen, but he  always imagined a quieter killing, a throat slit in the dead of night, stealing a boat-

“No offense, but judging by the noise, there's a massacre happening on deck. We can't possibly move through that and live.”

“We just need to get a gun-”, Gon tries to reason. Leorio does not let him finish the sentence; he pulls the boy into his arms and shushes him.

The quiet has spread.

 

They sit on the floor, straining their ears.

The goat sneezes. Wood creaks.

“Someone's coming,” Gon whispers.

_‘Someone_ _’_ meant members of the attacking crew, advancing into the belly of the ship to snoop for cargo and remaining crew members. In a panicked frenzy, Leorio reached for his opened shackle and fastened it around Gon's leg.

“ _What are you_ -”

“They'll less likely kill you if they don't think you're a crew member. Beg for mercy or let me do the talking.”

“Mercy?”, Gon replied breathless. “You have no clue-”

And Leorio would remain clueless a little longer as a man with a chest like a barrel - and a vest that does a poor job of covering it - slips into the room. He greets them with a lantern in one hand and a gun in the other. Introduces himself as Basho. His impeccable beard implies that he is a fellow that can be reasoned with.

“I'm a doctor,” Leorio shouts and raises his hands in surrender. The sudden light makes his eyes water, so he cannot tell if his words make any impression, but he prays to god that they do.“They captured me and my son.”

At this, Gon makes a noise of confusion, but Leorio talks over it: “Do with me what you want but please, spare my boy.”

The man makes a sound that could have been a chortle or a sneer. “Name?,” he bellows.

“Leorio Paladiknight. And-”

Leorio is cut off by a sharp bird-whistle.

The man puts his lantern down on a water barrel and commands them to move to opposite sides, which they heed, as far as the chains allow. Another man slips into the supply room, quiet as a ghost. Slender. His face hidden by a headscarf. He carries a bloodied saber and his voice runs cool and melodious.

“You found him,” he says. It's not a question.

“What about the kid?”, the first man asks. He stems his foot against the wall and pulls at the iron ring with the force of all his weight.

“What about it?”

“He says it's his son.”

The slender one falls quiet. His dark eyes fix on Leorio. “Really, now.”

“We're chained together,” Leorio pipes up. The weight of the gaze is making him queasy. “So you have to take us both.”

The first man stops pulling for a moment and looks at his companion. He asks, softer than one would expect from a man as broad as him: “Captain?”

“Take them, and be quick about it. I don't plan to be longer on this ship than I absolutely need to.”

* * *

 

Captain Hisoka Morou is not as dead as Leorio has hoped for and what’s worse, the  man starts a commotion as he sees Gon being led out of the ship. His complaints are being met with the curve of a saber raised to his throat.

“I think I have proven to be very generous,” the other captain says. “I let you keep the prize you took off the _York Shin_ , I let you keep your supplies. It appears that you are the most fortunate loser in all of the Seven Seas, but if you still want to complain, I will gladly accept your life in exchange for the boy. So, which one is it?”

Leorio stops to watch the man that has slain the crew of the _York Shin_ in a perverse, almost lustful haze stand immobile. Watches as a he tilts his head as if to welcome the kiss of the blade on his skin. Captain Morou runs his tongue over his pink tinted lips. “This is not over yet, little princeling,” he promises, his voice smooth and intimate like the touch of silk on the skin.

Leorio hates it. Leorio hates how everything about this man is hungry and consuming and overwhelmingly sexual. He is almost grateful when the strong hands of his new capturers push him forward, over the planks to a new brigantine that sails under the black.

His stomach drops when he notices the flag. A white skull over crossed chains, blood pouring from the eye sockets.

“This is…” he mutters under his breath.

When he fails to find his words, Gon finishes for him: “The symbol of Captain Chains.”

Chains. A man famous for his elusiveness, for his unpredictability, his unrivaled wits. A man who does not shun a fight with anyone, be it pirate or navy. Who prefers to kill by driving a sword through his opponent's heart but who can just as easily disarm an entire crew with his words. A man who has become a legend spoken in hushed whispers within the span of a year.

The captain boards his ship last, giving order to depart while barely raising his voice, yet movement erupts immediately among his crew. Leorio can not help but notice that the notorious pirate barely reaches up to the height of his shoulders.

Still, he knows to be on guard.

“Welcome aboard the _Scarlet Tempest_ ,” the captain says dryly.

* * *

 

Mizaistom Nana waits until the captain has given orders to Basho on how to fare with their newly acquired guests. They are to be freed of their restraints, are to be fed and supplied with soap, water and fresh clothes and led around on deck so the crew can get used to their sight. He wonders if it is not wiser to keep them in the captain's quarters until the mood of the crew has found an equilibrium – too many of the men and women carried frustration, grief, too few might consider the fight they just won a triumph.

But he is not so foolish as to voice his concerns then and there; instead he falls in line behind his captain when the man makes his retreat.

Mizaistom watches out for signs of fatigue. A stagger in the step. A shortness of breath. The symptoms get more pronounced as they approach the captain's quarters, a sign that the quiet transformation has begun. That the pirate called Chains becomes a simple man again. He pulls the scarf off his head, all but collapses in the chair behind his desk and takes one long, wheezing breath that makes Mizaistom rush to his side and press his fingers against his neck. Under the flushed skin he finds an erratic pulse and for a moment he fears that the fever has returned – but then Kurapika slaps his hand away.

“I'm fine,” he snarls.

“The hell you are. Cheadle was right, you should have taken more time to recover.”

“I'm just spent. Going against Hisoka has that effect on people, you know. And I would not have charged into that fight, had I not felt fit enough to survive it.”

“Well, forgive me for my concern, but you have not been at your most rational in recent days”

Kurapika slumps and props his legs up on his desk. “Is that your personal opinion? Or the crew's?”

Mizaistom rewards these questions with silence. As the quartermaster of the ship it was his duty to speak up for the crew, to reconcile their interests with the captain's and so he knows that Kurapika can be quick to dismiss concerns, especially if they come from someone who cares about him. So, instead of concerns, he offers facts. “We lost six men today. Eight more injured, one of whom might not make it through the next hours. And what did we gain?”

Kurapika's face is dewy with perspiration but his eyes are focused and hold Mizaistom's gaze. “We got what we wanted.”

Mizaistom scoffs. “No, we got what _you_ wanted without an explanation why you wanted it, or how it could benefit us. All we had was your word that it was of utmost importance that we get this man.”

“You think we sacrificed more than it was worth it.”

“No. I trust you. The issue is not what you have taken but rather what you have _not_ taken. You've bested Hisoka, for fuck's sake, you could have easily demanded a small portion of the prize he retrieved from the York Shin to reward the crew. But you didn't.”

Kurapika crosses his arms in front of his chest. “The less we take from Hisoka, the less likely he will retaliate.”

“I know this. And I'd say most of the crew knows it too, but that doesn't mean they're happy with it. Not right now. So I suggest you come up with something to pacify them before their disgruntlement grows into resentment.”

“I'm not afraid of my crew.”

“What makes you think they're going to take it out on _you_?”

* * *

 

The ship's cook turns out to be a boy around Gon's age who mutters complains so carelessly under his breath that Leorio suspects it is his preferred, if not his only means of communication. He spares them one squinty glance before he says: “Just so we're clear, I'm not making extras for no one.”

“You mean you're not making any extras for anyone?”, Leorio half-asks half-concludes. The boy gives him a nasty stare, but he is not the first on this ship to regard Leorio with animosity. Unfriendly eyes watch his every step and he has already grown too weary of them to be fazed. “Because you used double negation.” Leorio continues. “Which means that you actually _were_ making extras for everyone, but I doubt that's what you meant, so-”

“If you understood, pops, then why are you getting all high and mighty about it, eh?”

“I'm Gon!” Gon exclaims cheerfully, disrupting the tense mood with his usual enthusiasm - like a ray of sunshine aggressively attempting to burst through a stormy  cloud. He extends a very dirty hand to the cook, then thinks better and tries to wipe the cakey blood on his pants. To no avail.

“I’m Killua,” the cook says. The disgust is clearly written on his face. “Sit. I hope you like pumpkin because that is all we have to eat for the next week before they spoil.”

“I do, actually,” Leorio mutters.

Killua squints, displeased.

It is then that they are joined by the quartermaster, who borrows two tin cups and bangs them together to catch the attention of the crew. Still, he needs to shout to make himself heard among the ruckus. “Gentlemen! Gentle ladies! And those of you who refuse to be either; I have been sent to inform you that while we sail home with a prize that cannot be measured in gold or handed out to each one of us, the captain will not forget the effort you put into securing it. Unfortunately, going against an enemy that is more monster than man” - here the man was interrupted by a few scattered jeers - “has taken a bit of a strain on him, so he cannot be here to tell you how proud he is of the feat you achieved. So to regain our strength and our spirits, tonight’s and tomorrow’s rations will be doubled. And yes, that includes the rum.”

The cheers that rise in response drown out the complaints of one very upset cook. The quartermaster regards Killua cooly, neither surprised nor irritated by the insolence this youth spews. Once the stream of insults has subsided, he says: “Throwing a tantrum is not going to revoke his decision, you know.”

“No, but the least he could do is get his broad ass over here and tell me how the fuck am I supposed to cook for twice the amount of people.”

The quartermaster smiles. “Well, if you ask nicely, perhaps our new guests will be so kind to help you.”

Killua waits for him to leave and take a seat at a table farther away before he waggles a spatula in Leorio’s and Gon’s general direction. “ _You_ ,” he says and leaves an unnecessarily dramatic pause, “will not touch, no, you will not even look at the fucking food before you washed your fucking paws, you hear me? Now. Does any of you assholes know how to cut a pumpkin?”

Leorio does.

* * *

 

Leorio cannot sleep. After weeks of curling up in a hard, cold, smelly corner, lying down in a hammock feels awkward. Unnatural even. His eyes burn, but he feels full and clean and human again. Gon is awake, too, Leorio can hear him chatter excitedly with the kitchen boy. They share stories, one more gruesome than the other, trying (and succeeding) to impress the other. Leorio is familiar with this behaviour; it’s a special kind of courtship, one that takes him back to his childhood when it was just him, and Pietro, and the spoiled child of the couple that took them in.

He and Pietro had lived on the streets before that. They pickpocketed their way from day to day and accumulated stories about cruelty, about what it was like to be considered less than human, animals, dirt stains on the shining dress of civilization.

Their foster parent’s child was a beautiful creature trapped in a corset who seemed to possess an infinitely deep well of knowledge. They took in books like others breathed air and they would tell stories about ghosts and monsters and murderers.

Leorio fell hopelessly in love.

Like a crow, he began to pick up or steal little shiny trinkets and left them on his sweetheart’s windowsill. He was courteous. He was willing to earn himself a place in society, become a respectable man, just wealthy enough that he could settle down with his spouse peacefully.

But they… they were _hungry_. Hungry for knowledge, hungry for freedom, hungry for a world different than the one they grew up in. They graced Leorio with kisses, mapped his body with their fingertips as if he was a continent they tried to explore.

He was foolish and giddy. He thought if he only loved them with all that he had, it could be enough. But loving someone did not mean that society stopped and regarded them with the same tender care.

 

A hand jerks Leorio out of his reminiscences. He sits up. His hammock sways; he tries to hold onto something for balance - and his hand closes around the toned forearm of the quartermaster, who towers over him. Leorio swallows, and wonders if he has breached some sort of etiquette.

“Sorry.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Mr. Nana promises. “The captain wants to speak to you.”

Leorio feels his stomach lurch in a way that has nothing to do with vertigo. It’s not that he has not expected this. As far as he knows, he and Gon are the only ones who have been taken from Captain Morou and it is obvious they wanted him in particular, so it had only been a matter of time until he would be introduced to his new capturer. But what for?

_They’re probably after information. Why else would they bother? They must know which ship I’m from. Who I’ve worked for._

Before it had been plundered, the _York Shin_ had been a simple merchant ship with a not-so-simple passenger. It belonged to a lowly Lord with a seat in the parliament and a fortune that keeps on dwindling (partially due to the Bahamas’ ongoing pirate problem and partially due to the Lord’s son’s affection for gambling and opium). So the father thought it might be a good idea to slap his son on the fingers and send him to a little vacation on the family’s tobacco plantations, to remind him where the money he was spending came from - but not without medical supervision. And while Leorio had not been keen on supervising a spoiled brat’s withdrawal, he could not pass the chance for a paid trip to the Bahamas.

As he is being led to the stern, he frantically searches his mind for any information on the Lord’s business or political plans. He comes up blank. Of course he does - his patient's favorite conversation topics had been rare liquor brands, raunchy poetry and tits.

So he has nothing to offer and Leorio can only hope that it does not diminish his chances of leaving the captain’s quarter’s alive.

The quartermaster knocks softly on the door. After a short delay, a tiny woman opens. She is wearing the most splendid floral bonnet Leorio has ever seen and a chipper attitude to match it.

“Ah, you’ve come at just the right time,” she chirps and waves them in. “The captain has just finished the lists, if you want to go over them and make some additions.”

“Now? I thought he wanted to have a word with our new guest.”

“Oh, I’m sure he won’t mind waiting a few more minutes in our company, right, Mr. Paladiknight?” And she winks at him as if they are old friends.

“Uh, I guess not.”

The room he is being led in is office and saloon all at once. Bookshelves frame the walls left and right, there is a desk facing the door, illuminated by candlelight. Behind it, a window front gives view to the sea, which shimmers black under the starlit sky. No sign of the captain, but Leorio spies another door between two shelves.

He is seated on a couch at a smaller table where a game of solitaire has been laid out - or perhaps it is a tarot reading, Leorio never cared much for cards. (He has too many telltale tics to get away with bluffing.)

The tiny woman introduces herself as Melody and assures Leorio that the captain will join them soon, but first... She picks up a box - no different from the size of a music box - from the desk and puts it in front of Leorio, patting the wood affirmatively. “Try these.”

Meanwhile, Mr. Nana has picked up a parchment and is studying it over the candlelight.

Leorio shoots him a look, but the quartermaster is too far away to study his expression, his features are but a blur to Leorio. He opens the box, only to find it lined with velvet and brimming with…

Glasses. Cracked ones. Tinted ones. For a moment he believes that this is magic - that his need has conjured the content and that if he had found himself wanting, say, a spoon, the box would have filled with cutlery. Because there is no way the captain could have known-

Except someone in the crew might have noticed Leorio’s constant squinting. He is a fool.

Leorio picks up a pair and studies the curve of the lense. The convex shape tells him it was designed for a farsighted wearer, but he finds pairs with concave lenses too.

Melody picks up a book from the shelf and props it up, opened, about an arm’s reach away from Leorio. “We always use this book as a standard for fittings because the letters are very small. If you can make them out, you should have about the right strength. Of course, our stock is somewhat limited.”

“Of course. _Thank you_.”

Because eavesdropping is a dangerous business in the company of criminals, Leorio tries his best to tune out the conversation that unfolds between Mr. Nana and Melody but he cannot help picking up some bits. Something about manning ships and trustworthiness and the risk of mutiny. Mr. Nana’s dissatisfaction is hard to ignore either.

“I don’t know if he has forgotten,” he says, “but it’s the crew who picks the quartermaster. If he really wants me to command the new crew, I suppose I could set you up as my successor, but you’re the one closest to him. They’re not going to vote for you as long as they’re cross with him. Not to mention that this relies far too much on the cooperation of a person who has no reason to cooperate with us.”

“Give it time. We don’t even have a second ship yet,” Melody reasons. “It can take weeks or months until we get a lead on-”

“Or we could stumble upon one on our way back home. Even if we have a month, that’s far too short of a time to grant a complete stranger with such a high position.”

Uncomfortable silence spreads.

Leorio has just put on a tinted pair of round glasses that puts the world in focus as much as it darkens it when he realizes that the attention has shifted towards him.  
“What?”

 

From where he is seated, Leorio has a straight view to the door that leads to the more private part of the captain’s chamber. And when it opens, all warmth drains from his chest.

It’s like seeing a ghost, as far as the living can make ghosts; a distorted echo of a person he knows except it cannot _be_.

Leorio bolts up on his feet, and does not even flinch as his knees bump loudly into the table. He struggles to breathe for a moment, words elude him.

It’s not until the captain tells his people to leave the room, that the spell is broken and all of Leorio’s warbled and pent up confusion, anger, desperation release in a rough cry.

“You absolute _shitstain_.”

The reaction is immediate. Melody makes a surprised little noise, Mr. Nana’s hand flies to his sword hilt. Only Kurapika does not sway. Kurapika never sways for anybody. But he extends his hand to signalize his quartermaster with a small gesture that there is no reason to interfere. All the while his dark eyes remain on Leorio. Hungry as always. Beautiful as always.

“I can understand if you’re upset.”

“Upset? You lied to me - to me! - and you think I‘m just upset? Don’t you think that maybe you could have consulted with me first before you pick up a profession that will ultimately get you _killed_?”

Kurapika sighs. When he speaks up again, it is the members of his crew he addresses: “I asked you to leave us. As you can tell, he does not wish to cause me harm. Quite the opposite, in fact. So you need not worry, I will be fine.”

They oblige, although the quartermaster takes a little bit more time to hover, but there is only so much he can stall before it breaches on disobedience. As the door closes and they are finally, remarkably alone, Leorio becomes conscious of the space between them. Of the development he has missed.

 

Ever since they knew one another, Kurapika has always been in change. Like an insect going through various pupae stages, he would discard aspects of his life that no longer fit him and grow into a new individual. At first, he refused to wear dresses any longer. Then he cut his hair. Then he parted from his old name, his old pronouns. Leorio watched and loved and supported him through all of the stages. Until the day Kurapika left their home.

_“As long as we stay here, I will always be considered your shadow,”_ he had said. _“They will always call me your wife, no matter how often I correct them. I don’t want to leave you. But there seems to be no place under this crown where do not have to choose between living true to myself and being your spouse.”_

The trading companies hired anyone at that time, disregarding their past, their upbringing, their criminal record. It was a dangerous job, but one that came with the benefit of reaching parts of the world where the empire’s claws could not reach. And with a joint income, they might purchase their freedom there.

Leorio wants to call himself a fool for not imagining the outcome that was unravelling right before his eyes.

 

“You haven’t exactly been honest with me either, you know,” Kurapika says as he ambles closer.

“I haven’t?”

“The boy, Leorio.” He pauses. Comes to stand right before his husband, even if it means craning his neck to remain eye contact. “See, I wouldn’t have been surprised to find you were lonely in my absence, but considering his age… I hadn’t realized you were that popular when we met.”

“Well, I, uh, I kinda lied about the boy. He was the only one on Morou’s ship who was decent to me and he wanted out badly. So I guess I adopted him? But for the record, my lie is in no way equal to being a fucking pirate king. And I like to add that I was very charming when we met.”

“About as charming as a pet monkey, if I recall correctly,” Kurapika quips. He gets on his tiptoes and straightens Leorio’s collar, then drops his hands to smooth over the coarse fabric of his shirt.

“Excuse me?”

“Loud. Gangly. Smelly.”

“Good to see that your unique brand of flirting hasn’t changed one bit.”

Kurapika giggles and Leorio will be damned if it isn’t the sweetest sound he has heard all year. He pulls his husband in a deep hug with no intent of ever letting go. And Kurapika softens, bends against Leorio’s form, resting his ear close to the heartbeat he had so sorely missed. Leorio buries his nose in Kurapika’s hair. He smells different now - they both do.

“I didn’t mean to become a criminal,” Kurapika whispers. “But it’s not like I had much of a choice in the matter.”

“What happened?”

“At first, everything seemed to go smoothly. The rest of the crew kept nagging me about putting on some muscle mass and when I had bad cramps I retreated and claimed I had a sensitive stomach.

“They swallowed that lie quickly, but you know how it is with ships, you don’t get much privacy. One of them found out when I was trying to clean some of my bloody rags. He didn’t tell the other men, but he started to treat me nicer after that. Said that he hoped we could be friends.

“Then we arrived at Nassau. We needed to stock up our ship with goods and foodstuff, and had to fix the rigging. We worked in shifts. The captain planned for a stay of five days and those who were not working were free to enjoy themselves on the island. And while most of the men turned to drink or women, my self-proclaimed friend seeks me out.”

“No,” Leorio mutters.

“Said now that we had some time to kill, and since he did me a favor by not telling anyone about me… he suggested I’d show him a little kindness in return. I told him I was married. He said he didn’t mind keeping that a secret too. When I still said no, he threatened me to tell the others. I punched him in the face. He knocked me down, tried to overwhelm me.”

“He didn’t-”

“I killed him before he had the chance. And ran. I didn’t know where to go, so I fled to the nearest inn, tried to disappear in the masses. That’s how I met Melody. She picked me up, gave me a job in her establishment which was awfully paid but it was all she could afford. And I nearly told you about this. I was ready to save up just enough to afford a trip back home, but...”

“But?” Leorio’s hand finds its way to the back of Kurapika’s neck and he traces small circles with his thumb over the sensitive skin. It earns him a relaxed sigh.

“The bar of the inn was always brimming with pirates. And where there are many pirates, there are a lot of quarrels. Now, I used my diplomatic skills to settle them. Entertained the men with riddles and card games. I hated it, but I gathered a bit of a reputation. Then Mizaistom walked into my life.”

“Who?”

“Mr. Nana, the quartermaster.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“He’s...”

“Attractive?”

“I was going to say ‘fond of you’. Don’t tease me like that.”

“Bear with me, I didn’t have much fun these last years.” Kurapika pokes Leorio playfully in the side. Props his chin up against his husband’s chest. “I missed you.”

“I missed you more.” Leorio bends down to press a kiss on Kurapika’s nose. The bridge has become a little more crooked now. He feels content, now that he can identify and map the little changes instead of being overwhelmed by their sum.

Kurapika sneaks a cold hand under Leorio’s shirt and presses it against the small of his back. Leorio squawks. Kurapika looks absolutely delighted.

“So as I was saying, Mizaistom showed up in the inn, offering me a position on his ship, the _Smiling Rat_ , officially as a deckhand. Unofficially, he was dealing with a very moody captain and an unhappy crew and he wanted me to keep the latter in line. So I win them over. And I realize I can use this to my benefit and cause a mutiny.”

“Of course,” Leorio sneers, “Who wouldn’t.”

“Well, I was already risking the noose just being a deckhand, I figured why not climbing up in the ranks a bit to make it worth the risk.”

“And me? When were you going to tell me about it? If you were planning on letting me know at all.”

“I would have come for you. Next year or maybe the year after that, depending on how long it would take to gather a fleet large enough to secure and defend my own hideout. A place where you would be safe. Instead, Hisoka got you. Luckily, Hisoka is disgusting, so he has no alliances with the other captains and going against him means to face a perfectly manageable  amount of consequences.”

Leorio still wonders. How exhausting must it be to constantly weigh all odds because one wrong decision leads to certain death? Hell, probably the right decisions demanded fatalities as well, perhaps the difference between the two was just whether more or less blood was spilled. As a doctor, he has felt the weight of such decisions, but at least he is not forced to make them every day. He gets breaks.

“If I...” He begins slowly, the idea just hatching in his mind, “If I asked you to take all of the money in your accounts and settle down with me here in New Providence, would you do it? Would you leave all this behind?”

“No.” Kurapika is quick to reply. And vehement.

“Why the fuck not? I’m sure they can do with another doctor on the island and you can have the garden you always wanted. We can grow some of our own food, we can be just two young men starting a new life far away from the shackles of civilization, I’m sure there must be plots of land where we can be undisturbed but still a day's’ ride away from a decent market. You don’t have to live this life.”

“But I _want_ to. I know this is hard to understand, Leorio, _don’t turn away from me_.”

But Leorio’s mood has already gone sour, has already taken the rejection personal. He stubbornly refuses to look at Kurapika, even as Kurapika reaches out and traces the side of Leorio’s jaw with his scarred knuckles. “I could walk out of this door, right now, and tell my crew who you are and what you mean to me and the worst thing I have to fear is a bit of teasing and ridiculous attempts to fluster me. These men fear me and respect me and some may even admire me. They don’t give a shit about who I invite in my bed, they know better than to consider me weak for falling ill once in a month and you know what? No matter how much I pissed them off, not one of them has ever called me a woman. Well, one of them tried and I left him to a fate much worse than death, so the rest of them knows better. Where else do I have this freedom? This power? I don’t have to abide by British rule, I don’t have to abide by any rules except the ones I make for myself and without rules the possibilities are endless. I am in a unique position right now and I know that it cannot last forever, but I can make something big out of this. Understand that this is an opportunity I cannot pass.”

Leorio turns his head slowly, searching Kurapika’s eyes. He finds no hesitation in them, just the glimmer of a vibrant spirit and so he knows that Kurapika means every word. He deflates. “So what happens now? Where does that leave us?”

“If you want to have no part in this, I understand. If you’d rather have a simpler life, I can find a place for you to do that, but it would make me happy if I could at least sneak back to your side every now and then.”

“Don’t tell me you would be content with that. And don’t tell me you haven’t already made plans for me the moment I set foot on your ship. Sooner even.”

Kurapika worries his lip, caught. “I might have come up with an arrangement,” he admits. “You’re free to reject it and I will think of-”

“Just tell me.”

“You stay by my side, on this ship. You look after the injured. As a doctor you’ll be exempt from fighting and as long as you’re here I will make sure that you’re safe. I will refrain from any rash decisions that could lead to the destruction of this ship as long as you’re on it. I will not let a single thing touch you.”

“Kurapika?”, Leorio asks as he catches a flyaway strand of blond hair and tucks it behind his husband’s ear. He thinks, but does not say, that this sort of life sounds awfully lonely. To live amidst people but not be a part of them. Then it occurs to him that this is how Kurapika must have felt most of his life.

“Yes?”

“When was the last time something has touched you?”

* * *

 

Later in the night, when the candle stump next to his cot has nearly burned down, Kurapika wonders how he has survived two years without Leorio’s reassuring weight against him, without the company of a partner who looks at him and truly knows him. Or how he had missed the deep satisfaction that he could find in a lover’s intimate embrace and the warm, heavy tranquility that followed it.

They are on the brink of falling asleep and Leorio has wrapped himself around Kurapika  in a near impossible fashion, adamant to rest his head on Kurapika’s soft chest while avoiding letting his  feet dangle off the cot and grow cold.

“What if I commit?” Judging by the drowsy wonderment in which Leorio asks the question, it has just shaped in his mind and rolled off his tongue in the same breath.

“To what?”, Kurapika inquires despite the fact that, at this very moment, running his fingers through Leorio’s hair is the only thing he feels like committing to.

“The whole being a pirate thing. I mean. I’ve been a thief before, I can be a thief again.”

“I would make you my equal. Everything I have, I would share with you. Everything you want, I would steal for you.”

Leorio snorts. “Yeah, that sounds fucking likely. Me, a captain. I don’t know a thing about how to lead a crew.”

“You wouldn’t be a captain, you fool. That would mean you had your own ship to mind and I would miss you in my bed again. I’d make you my first mate, a fitting position for a husband. Of course, the crew might not be too happy with that development at first. But just say a word and I’ll have them where I want them in, say, two months. Six weeks if you can gain Mr. Nana’s sympathy. Four weeks if you manage to seduce him.”

“You fucking with me? ” His tongue is sluggish from fatigue, almost slurs the words.

“Yes, darling, I am.” It is a lie.

Leorio huffs and rubs his cheek against Kurapika’s chest. And as his breathing evens out, Kurapika’s mind becomes more awake. It sets to work, tries to procure the requirements he needs to make this desired possibility a reality. If seducing Mizaistom is off the table (and he is not sure that it is), and given Leorio’s likeable nature, they could achieve their goal in five weeks, assuming they conquered another ship and split up their crew. Nothing relieves tension like a victory and a fresh start.

As long as Leorio had wishes to make and love in his heart, Kurapika would use his brilliant mind to serve him. As long as Kurapika had wind in his sails and blue waves that carried him across the sea, there was no one who could stop him.


End file.
